


Simon Snow is Sick

by total_elorcan_trash



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Baz takes care of Simon, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Harry Potter, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, SIMON IS SICK, Sick Character, Simon Snow is an Idiot, Slow Burn, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Unrequited Love, Watford (Simon Snow), baz is a mother hen, baz's hair is sick, first fic, haha cook pritchard is my second tag, i don't know how to tag, just read it, magic sickness, they're not in love yet but they will be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/total_elorcan_trash/pseuds/total_elorcan_trash
Summary: Simon is sick and Baz is the only one who can get in their room, so he takes care of Simon. Like, with chicken noodle soup and stuff. Probably gonna be a multi-chapter fic. And I'll probably change the title.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter One

**Simon**

I’m so hot, and I’m so tired. I can’t do this anymore. I stagger up the stairs of Mummers House to my room, barely making it up the stairs. I just need to be where nobody can bother me about homework, or the Humdrum, or the Autumn Dance. I’ll just take a quick nap.

I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.

**Baz**

  
Simon Snow really is an idiot. A bloody idiot.

  
When I walk up the stairs to our room, I know that something is wrong. I can taste his magick on my tongue, the thick, woodsy, campfire scent of it. And then Snow is just lying there on his stomach and I can’t tell if he’s even alive and I run over and I have to see if he’s alive, he should be alive, and then his chest is rising and I only just then remember that I have to breathe, too. But he’s hot, and this whole room is too hot. After I remember how to breathe, I try a “ **Get well soon** ,” but if anything, it makes him hotter. Now he’s sweating in his sleep. Taking the steps down two at a time, I run to Nurse Prue. Something is seriously wrong.

  
After finding Prue (curing a goat, who would look there?) and bringing her up the stairs (wow, old people are slow), we run into another roadblock at the doorway. Literally.

  
“I can’t enter this room, Basilton,” she says. Prue’s the only one who uses my full name, except for when a teacher is mad at me, which is next to never. Then I frown, registering her words.

“What do you mean?”

  
To illustrate her point, Prue takes a step into the room, or tries to. But it’s like there’s a wall there or something. I take a step, and pass the threshold. Odd. Looking at the doorway, it appears there’s a shimmery barrier. It looks like a shiny curtain.”Crap,” I say.

  
“I’m not an expert,” she says. “But it appears that your friend has cast some sort of barrier spell to keep anyone from entering.”

  
“But I can get in!” I reply.

  
“Yes, Basilton.” Prue turns and starts walking down the stairs. “It’s your room, too.”

____________________________________________________

We end up sitting in one of the lounges of Mummers House, on the first floor. It’s got nice squashy couches and hot chocolate. Of course, I never sit in here. Too common for the only heir of Pitch. “ **Some like it hot**!” I spell under my breath. Now my hot cocoa is steaming. Then, I take a sip and lean back to make myself comfortable.

  
“I came into the room and it was burning up. Snow was, too. I thought he was dead at first, actually. He was lying face down and I couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. Then I went over, saw that he was still alive, and tried a get well soon.” I say it without magick, of course. “It didn’t work, though. It almost felt as if he was getting hotter. After that I came to get you.”

  
Prue hmmmms, and leans back on the couch. She’s old, older than the Mage and most of the teachers, too. Her long hair is streaked with white, and her hands are full of wrinkles. She’s pretty powerful, given that she has to repair students all day from the chemistry room (one word: explosions).  
“Sounds like magick sickness. Extremely powerful mages can be overloaded with magick. There are only a few documented cases of it, though, because so few people can contract it.”

  
“Well, how do we cure it?” There’s no way I’m sharing a room with a sick Snow. There must be some special, magick siphoning spell.

  
“That’s the catch, Basilton. You have to treat it like a Normal would, because any extra magick only makes it worse.”

  
“But…” I begin. “If I’m the only one who can enter the room, then how will Snow get better?”

  
“You’ll have to take care of him.” She says this like it means nothing, like it’s no big deal that she just asked me, Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, heir to the Pitches, to take care of Simon Snow.

  
“Oh hell no.”

**Simon**

When I wake, it looks like it’s early morning, by the light, and Baz is leaning, looking for all the world like he’s either going to bite me or kiss me. (I would rather he would bite me. Right?) At this proximity I can see the stubble on his chin and how his grey eyes really are beautiful.

  
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” I scream, because, no matter how beautiful Baz’s eyes really are, why in world is he leaning over me in the wee hours of the morning? I try to crawl backward, only remembering that my bed is against a wall when I hit said wall with my head. Baz jumps back, sheepish.

  
“What the actual %*#& are you doing?” I yell.

  
“Taking care of you, you bloody prat!”

  
Well, whatever I expected to hear from him, it was not that. Baz, taking care of me? “Wha-what?” I ask, too shocked to actually formulate a response. “But I’m not sick!”

  
Baz laughs like I’ve said something funny, and says, “Try to stand up then, Mr. Not Sick.”

  
Exasperated, I try to get on my knees but the adrenaline from my rude awakening has worn off and my limbs feel extremely heavy. In fact, I can’t even lift my legs. “This is one of your plots, isn’t it!” Now I’m back to yelling.

“What are you going on about, Snow?” he asks.

  
I stare at him. “You know bloody well what I’m talking about. You make me sick and then pretend to take care of me, all the while making me sicker than I was in the first place!”

  
“Snow, if I could make you sick I wouldn’t want to take care of you. Besides, I already did that in second year.”

  
What a ruddy year that was. Baz gave me the measles and kept “forgetting” about me. &%*) never even got sick. But Baz is right. He never repeats his plots, he’s too creative. So… Why is he taking care of me? Blimey, if I’m this sick, why am I not in the infirmary?

  
My question must show on my face (Penny says everything shows on my face. She tried to cast Poker Face on me once and no one could see my face for a week) (I think that was in second year too. What a crap year) because Baz sighs and says, “I found you after class. You had a fever of 104°. You also managed to spell a boundary on all the entrances to this room, and I was the only one who could enter.”

  
“What?!” He must be lying now. But I do remember walking up the stairs and wishing to be alone, where no one could reach me… Did I really spell a boundary around the room?

  
“Yes, Snow. We couldn’t even lift you up, you must have dead weighted yourself. So I have to take care of you for-” he mimes looking at a watch on his left wrist, even though he actually does have a watch on his right one. “About 6 more days.”

  
“Wha-”

  
“Bloody hell Snow, can you say anything other than what?” This is the first time he’s actually snapped at me, he must really feel sorry for me.

  
“But what am I sick with? Won’t you catch it?” I can’t believe I actually care about him, but it feels wrong to have him risk himself for me like this. We’re nemeses.

  
“Nurse Prue said it was something called magick sickness. It’s pretty rare because only those who are extremely powerful can get it. Your body isn’t equipped for so much magick. That’s why I have to take care of you, because if I try and heal you it’ll just make it worse.”

  
“And you said 6 days?” This gets worse and worse.

  
“Yes, but Prue said that if you overexert yourself or try any magick you’ll make it last longer.”

  
Yeah, right. No way I’m sitting here for 6 days, just waiting for the Humdrum to attack. Again, Baz sees something on my face, because he bares his teeth and snarls at me.

  
“Look, Snow. The longer you’re here sick, the longer I have to sit here and put a cold cloth on your forehead. No one can break that barrier, we’ve tried. If you use any more magick, it could permanently damage you. So you’re going to sit here and get better, and I’m going to sit right next to you to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

  
I goggle at him. Usually he’s the one who pisses me off until I start ranting, but something about this must have pushed him to his breaking point. I should make a mental note about this conversation, see what made him mad.

  
Baz sits back on his own bed and lies down. “Now that you’re awake, I’m going to bed. You can change your own cold cloths.”

  
I don’t know what I’m even supposed to do without class, but then I remember my bag with my mountains of homework, lying next to my bed. I groan. I can’t stomach doing any more homework. Then I remember that new book that Penny lent me. It’s a fantasy book, about some “Chosen One”. I don’t know why she would think that I want to read about it when I get enough of it in my own life, but I can humor her now. She’ll probably be surprised that I actually got to read it. I think she’s pretty much given up on me for reading by now. Sighing, I turn to page one of “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Simon wants to name a three headed dog Gore, and Baz agrees to a truce.

**Baz**

When I walk into our room, carrying two trays (dang Snow eats a lot), I nearly spill the food all over the floor, because Snow’s lying there and he’s…  _ Reading?  _

“Snow, are you reading?” I ask, setting his tray down on the bed.

“Shut up,” he says, but I think he says it affectionately. “You know, I  _ can  _ read.”

Honestly, I thought he might not be able to, with him growing up in a home. Whenever he has to do any type of reading, he gets Bunce to do it for him.

“Also, they’re getting past a three-headed dog named Fluffy. If I had a three-headed dog I would name it something cool, like Hellas or Gore! Baz, what would _ you  _ name your three-headed dog?”

A ghost of a smile touches my lips, because there’s the Snow I know. “Eat your scones, Snow. I put plenty of butter on them.”

**Snow**

To say I’m bored would be an understatement. Baz left to go see if Penny has the second book. I think this must be the first book I’ve finished in, well… Forever. It’s not half as bad as I thought it would be. I think I’ll try to get Baz to read it. He'd probably just make fun of it, though.

It’s pretty funny, the stuff that lady got wrong. You couldn’t keep a dragon egg in a house, because dragon chicks are already the  _ size _ of a house when they come out of an egg. Plus, mountain trolls are much harder to knock out. No first year could take one.

I mean, I did. But I just went off on it. Besides, I don’t think it was actually trying to hurt me. Penny says it was just trying to protect its babies.

There’s a faint knocking sound coming from the door. “Yeah?!” I shout through the door. If Baz is to be trusted, I should take advantage of not having to get out of bed. 

The door pushes open from the outside, and it’s some idiot first year. He peeks his head in and touches the barrier, then runs back to his friends, laughing. Probably some stupid dare.

Blimey, was I that tiny? I know Baz wasn’t. He was taller than any first year had a right to be, practically a foot taller than everyone else in our year. I still remember the first time I saw him. 

Baz was sitting on the fountain in the center of the Great Lawn. I remember thinking that maybe this was what I could look like, if I studied hard and worked harder. Lounging around in a suit with my adoring friends all around me. And everything (at least in this vicinity) seemed to revolve around him. Even the uppers recognized that this, this was someone who had power. Someone to maybe fear, just a little. 

And so I was walking past, in my ratty t-shirt and grotty jeans, thin as a twig. I had my little red ball in my hand, bouncing it up and down, and Baz just nodded at me. Looking back on it, it seems so dumb. But anyway.

Baz didn’t hate me yet. He didn’t know who I was, and it’s like a glimpse into another life. If I wasn’t the Mage’s Heir, would Baz hate me still? 

I saw him later. At the bonfire, with the Crucible. And he acted like a complete jerk. But that’s Baz for you.

Baz himself walks into the room now. And I can’t help comparing the expression on his face to the one at the bonfire. 

He’s definitely softer now, but there’s also something like affection.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says gruffly. “Here’s your stupid book. Penny had it.”

“Hey Baz?” I ask. “Ummmm…”

“Spit it out, Snow. We don’t have all day.”

I blush. Why is Baz so good at making me blush? “Well, I was wondering… Are you still going to class?” I’m going to be very lonely if he is, I think.

He sighs. “Prue said that I should skip class for the first two days, and then I can go for some, but should also stay here a little. We all know you’re allergic to solitude.”

“Um… Baz?”

“Simon, I’m the only other human here. You don’t have to say my name every time.”

He’s not  _ really _ a human, but I don’t feel like starting something. “Yeah, whatever,” I reply. “Do you think we could try something like a truce?”

Baz stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Snow, what are you, 12? A truce?”

“See, this is what I mean,” I say. “You can’t just be mean to me!”

“Says who?” Baz smirks at me. “I like being mean to you.”

“Yeah, but it’s going to be a really long week if we’re just jabbing back and forth to each other all the time.”

“Fine,” Baz says. “But only so you can’t accuse me of plotting anything.”

I roll my eyes, but put out my hand, and we shake on it. Traditionally we would use  **An Englishman’s word is his bond** but neither of us can do magic right now.

I hope this won’t backfire horribly.

**Baz**

Crowley. A truce? The only way I can manage to not spit out that I’m crazily in love with him is by making him hate me all the time. This week is going to be a disaster. Stuck in a room with Snow and all his moles? It’s both a fantasy and a torture chamber.

I sneer at him, just to get the point across that  _ no, just because we are on a truce and I have to take care of you does  _ not _ mean that I’m hopelessly in love with you, no _ .

I must have a death wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a few days, but I have the nest chapter pretty much written, so it'll be up faster. Thank you to anyone who's reading this, and kudos and comments are appreciated! Also, sorry these chapters are short. They'll probably get longer throughout the fic.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so please be gentle with your comments and stuff. Kudos are appreciated! Thanks to anyone who actually read it (honestly I can't believe someone is gonna read this). Happy holidays! 
> 
> P.S. Does anyone have a good idea for a title?


End file.
